


Slowly, We Came Together

by MysticDeadman



Series: Learning to Fight [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Commissioned Work, Fantasy, Fantasy World, Fighting, Intergender FIghting, Magic, Martial Arts, Mixed Fighing, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Fiction, Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 16:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticDeadman/pseuds/MysticDeadman
Summary: A warrior monk responds to a job posting to act as a bodyguard for a wealthy family's daughter. What he comes across instead forces him into action.
Series: Learning to Fight [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684456





	Slowly, We Came Together

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned work for @Jack31233 on Twitter.

Blood. Blood and bodies.

That was the sight that greeted Taron when he approached the mansion. Hours earlier, in the nearby town’s tavern, he’d seen an advertisement that sparked his interest. He had only just begun taking on work as a mercenary. He’d had no idea how hard it was at first. Not many who were hiring were looking for warrior monks, especially those that wore minimal armor. Taron’s battle dress consisted of a light set of steel pauldrons on his shoulders, the crossing straps the only bits of clothing that covered his chest. Animal hide pants covered his legs, and light hide boots completed his dress. The minimal clothing allowed the various tattoos across his body to stand out against his tanned skin.

No, most with job offers wanted magicians, rogues, or even assassins for their work. He’d even gotten passed up on jobs in favor of brainless brutes.

This job, however, was one that he felt he had a solid chance at. The advertisement was from a local affluent family, the Liefields, looking for someone to act as their daughter’s personal guard. He saw the job as his chance to get a foot in the door and make a name for himself. If he could gain the trust of a well-to-do family, they could certainly vouch for him in future endeavors.

As he approached the mansion which was to serve as the location of his potential employers, however, sounds stopped him where he stood.

Shouts and screams, carried on the breeze blowing through the area.

Taron ran, rushing to the opulent home as quickly as he could. As he drew closer, he could see the result of the screams that drove him to run in.

Blood. Blood and bodies. The bodies of the guards he was hoping to join littered the ground. Nearly all of them were covered in slashes and gashes. His attention, however, was quickly drawn to the thing that had slain the family’s guard. A werewolf stood over the carnage, panting heavily.

“Damn,” Taron muttered under his breath, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

The werewolf, whose back had been turned on the monk, spun around. Its eyes, already wild with rage, narrowed in on him. Taron quickly brought his arms up, suddenly thankful that he’d thought to wear his plated armguards. The werewolf quickly charged him, slashing at the monk crazily. Taron easily defended against the attacks, noting how undisciplined the creature was. The most damage he’d taken was when he misjudged his spacing, resulting in the werewolf’s assault tearing away at his clothes. Taron bided his time, waiting for the opportune moment.

That moment came when the beast went for a particularly vicious swipe. Taron saw the strike coming all the way, and he effortlessly sidestepped the attack. He leaped into the air, rearing a fist back. His fist began to glow, a fire igniting over it. With a shout, he unleashed the punch, catching the beast in the face with his attack. The burning punch drew a cry of pain from the werewolf, knocking it off balance. He quickly followed his attack, jumping into the air and delivering an elbow strike to the crown of the beast’s skull. The werewolf staggered, allowing Taron to launch himself into a spinning roundhouse kick. His foot burned with the same fire magic that he opened his assault with, and the beast fell in a shower of embers. Taron watched the downed werewolf for a few moments, waiting to see if it would awaken. He relaxed when he saw the werewolf’s fur begin to retract into its body. Several seconds passed, Taron cringing as he heard the sickening crunch of bones, until the beast had finally regressed, leaving behind the unconscious form of an average-looking man.

Taron sighed heavily. “How does a man like you cause this much damage?” He looked around him, surveying the area. He spotted a length of rope on one of the fallen guards’ bodies, quickly running over to grab it and use it to bind the unconscious man’s arms together. “That should hold you for now.”

Once he was sure the outside of the mansion was safe, Taron entered the building, eyes scanning the area for anyone who might still be around. The werewolf hadn’t been able to get inside before Taron took him down, but that didn’t mean that here might not have been people in hiding. Once he had taken a few steps in, however, he suddenly felt himself straining to move. He felt as though he’d leaped into a slime. Every step, every motion felt as if he was wading through the thickest syrup. He tried to call out, hoping to get someone to dispel the curse. He quickly discovered, however, that with the Slow spell he’d been ambushed with, a Silence one had accompanied it. He felt as though his throat was frozen in place, rendering him incapable of doing anything other than breathing.

As he tried to release himself from the apparent trap he sprung, he heard a sound coming from a room to his side. He was only able to turn his head enough to see a young woman entering the room. Her long, blonde hair flowed in behind her, and her white and gold trousers rustled loudly with every step. Her bare feet slapped loudly against the entrance hall’s marble floors, but what caught his eye was the violet pendant around her neck. The glow emanating from it told him all he needed to know. This young woman--Ciara Liefeld, the Liefeld family’s only daughter and heir--was the one responsible for the magic trap he’d accidentally tripped.

“It worked!” The young heiress exclaimed. She then brandished a knife she’d had hidden behind her back. “You’ll pay for slaughtering my family’s guards, you animal!” She then charged at Taron, knife held out in front of her. Taron turned as quickly as he could, thought the Slow spell still dragged his movement down. A moment before Ciara’s attack reached him, however, the glow from her pendant faded, though it wasn’t fully extinguished. Taron felt his body lighten, allowing him to parry the incoming blade, disarming the young woman with a twist of his wrist.  
  
Taron pushed the heiress away, causing her to stumble for a few steps. He tried to explain the situation to her, but the Silence spell held.   
  
“Damn,” Ciara muttered, “the spell sat for too long. It faded out too quickly, and I don’t have enough mana to recast it. No matter, the Guard Captain still taught me enough to defeat you.” With that, she brought her arms up, hands balled into fists. Taron, seeing that he was not going to be able to get through to her, matched her action with his own.

Ciara dashed forward, her pendant glowing slightly brighter. Her feet matched the glow, quickening her movement. Taron was caught off guard by the sudden burst of speed, though he managed to defend against the jabs from the young woman. Seeing her opening assault being deflected, Ciara threw a round kick to the warrior’s side. Taron was too focused on keeping her fists away from his face, and was unable to prevent the kick from finding its mark. He grunted in pain, surprised by the strength she’d put into it.

Seeing Taron stagger for a moment, CIara thought to try and press her advantage. She kept the leg she’d kicked with up, quickly chambering it and firing off a kick to the monk’s head. Taron recovered in time, however, and ducked under her leg. He stepped forward, throwing a hard hook to her midsection. Ciara was not at all prepared for the blow, and wheezed as she felt the air leaving her lungs. He applied his own pressure, rushing in for another hard punch. Ciara, on instinct, brought her knee up, catching the fighter in his jaw. In the back of his mind, Taron was thankful that the pants Ciara wore were thick enough to soften the blow, though it still rattled his chin. The heiress recovered before the monk could, and fired another punch to the side of his head. Although the blow connected, her lack of experience with actual fighting lessened the impact of the strike, and she did less damage to the monk than she had hoped.

Taron recoiled from the blow, spinning around with the attack’s momentum and throwing a round kick to Ciara’s head. The heiress ducked under the kick, spinning around for her own. Taron dodged under the young woman’s, and a chain began. The two went back and forth for a few seconds, matching missed kick with missed kick. Eventually, Taron became irritated with the turn of events and, when Ciara ducked down for an attack that never came, he instead went low, sweeping her feet out from under her. The young woman yelped in surprise, and cried out in pain when she landed heavily on the marble floor. She lay on the ground, groaning. Taron, seeing the young heiress in her vulnerable position, moved over to help her up. He reached down toward her, intending to help Ciara up. Instead, he was taken by surprise when the young woman’s legs wrapped themselves around his arm and neck, one capturing his arm in place and pressing the shin against his throat while the other slung itself around the back of his head. Ciara grabbed Taron’s head, pulling him into her leg as hard as she could.

 _What the hell is this?!_ Taron thought, his free arm swinging wildly in a mild panic. Ciara strained, applying as much pressure to the unique choke-hold as she could. Taron’s face began to darken, the lack of blood to his brain causing his vision to swim. The only thing he could think to do was punch away at the leg he had access to. Ciara groaned with each impact, though she held on as long as she could. Eventually, however, the strikes took their toll on her, forcing her to release the “Hell’s Gate”, as her fallen Guard Captain called it. The two fighters returned to their feet, staring each other down.

“You’re quite the skilled fighter,” Ciara said, panting. She stood gingerly on one foot, trying to keep her leg from cramping up. “I can see how you overpowered the Guard so easily.”

Taron sighed. Until he could speak again, he knew the Liefeld daughter couldn’t be swayed. He raised his guard, ready for another round. Ciara did the same, and the two squared off once again.

Before long, Taron stepped forward, firing a punch toward the young woman’s jaw. Ciara deflected the blow, quickly turning her body with the arm. She grasped it firmly, jutting her hips back and pulling down. The throw caught Taron completely off-guard, and he quickly found himself flying over the young woman and crashing into the ground. He was also unprepared for the foot that stepped over his body, heel slamming into his jaw while Ciara twisted his captured arm. He strained against the hold, trying to release himself. Ciara, seeing him struggle, wrenched the arm harder to keep him down.  
  
Taron struggled as long as he could, but he felt that the young woman was on the verge of doing some permanent damage. Suddenly, he felt the stiffness in his throat ease. He let out a harsh cough, feeling his throat returning to normal. He looked, seeing the pendant Ciara wore no longer glowing.

_She’s out of mana!_

Taron let his magic flow into his locked hand, fire beginning to spark to life. Ciara cried out as a jet of flames erupted from him, releasing her hold to prevent him from burning her. Realizing what happened, Ciara harshly whispered under her breath, attempting to cast the Silence spell again. She felt no magic flow into her pendant, however, and she came to the same realization that Taron had.

Taron rolled to his feet, coughing as the Silence spell’s hold broke. Ciara charged in, hoping to finish the monk before he could recover. Taron, however, saw her coming just in time and, pumping mana into his feet, launched himself into a blazing backflip kick. The attack caught Ciara in the jaw, sending her flying back to the ground. She cried out as she landed, then wheezed as Taron followed in with a knee to her abdomen to keep her pinned to the ground. She looked up at the monk, seeing him glaring at her with a blazing fist raised in the air.

“Enough!” Taron shouted, though his voice was strained due to the Silence spell, “you have the wrong man!”  
  
“Lies,” Ciara spat, pain still shooting through her, “it’s clear you were the one who slew the guards.”   
  
Taron shook his head. “No, you’re wrong. I was the one who stopped it. The werewolf responsible for that is out there.” He pointed to the outside, at the man who he’d tied up minutes before. Ciara followed the finger, jaw falling as she realized her mistake.

“Oh no,” she said, hands flying to her face as panic filled her voice, “I’m so sorry! I told the guards about the trap I set! I told them to tell anyone who came inside about it, so when you set it off, I thought you were the one who attacked us!”

“The opposite, actually,” Taron said as he stood up, offering the heiress a hand. Ciara took the assist, coming to her feet as well, “I came here to answer your family’s advertisement about a personal guard for you when I came across this. I just wish I’d gotten here sooner. I might have been able to save a few of them.”

Ciara’s expression fell into one of sadness. “Perhaps. The best we can do now is make sure we and their families honor their sacrifices.”

“Agreed,” Taron nodded, “Speaking of families, where is yours?”

“My parents left to see to a business proposal in another town. I stayed behind because I wasn’t feeling well when they left. I suppose news of their departure reached the town and gave that beast out there the courage to attempt to rob us. If it weren’t for you, he might have accomplished his goal and slain me as well. I thank you for your arrival…’ she trailed off.

“Taron,” he said, introducing himself to the young woman, “warrior monk. And you’re Ciara Liefeld, I presume?” The young woman nodded. “You know, I can see why your Guard Captain chose to train you. You have a natural talent for fighting.”

“Do you think so?” Ciara asked, slightly surprised.  
  
Taron nodded. “I do. And, once your parents return and the guards are taken home, I’d be honored if you allowed me to be your trainer.”

For the first time since the two met, Ciara smiled. “I would like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you’ve seen and want to keep up with the Internet’s Eternal Phenomenon, then be sure to follow me on social media! I’m on Twitter (@MysticDeadman), Instagram (@mystic_deadman), DeviantArt (MysticDeadman), Fanfiction (Mystic Deadman) and YouTube (Mystic Deadman)!
> 
> If you’d like to order a commission of your own, feel free to check my pinned tweet for my commission and contact info.


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